The Wise Women

Chapter 23

The light was beginning to fade now and the tree-shadows that fell across the forest path were lengthening. The diamond tiara weighed heavily on Nesta's head. Her heart thudded with nervousness as she led the hunting party back to the castle.

They came to an iron-hinged oak double gate set in a high stone wall topped with metal spikes and guarded by two men in the royal blue cloak and iron helmet of the Imperial Guard.

When they saw Nesta approaching, they lifted the latch and pushed the gates open, standing to attention as she rode through into the castle's formal garden.

Nesta had seen Castle Stormont from a distance many times. Its turrets dominated Chesterley's northern skyline but this was the first time she was seeing it up close. She suppressed a gasp at the sheer size of it – a vast grey stone edifice topped with crenelated battlements and a multitude of rounded towers that reached high into the sky, casting long shadows over the garden's manicured lawns. From flagpoles on each of the turrets, waved Sapphira's flag – a white letter S on a royal blue background.

A path, bordered by rows of late yellow rose bushes, led up to the fountain in the middle of the garden. Neatly topiaried bushes and ornamental trees, clinging on to the last of their leaves, grew in circular beds cut, at regular intervals, into the rich green lawns. Nesta's eyes darted from right to left, taking everything in, fitting it to the maps and layouts she held in her mind.

Onyx ambled lazily up to the fountain where a bored-looking marble mermaid, her tail curled around a rock, poured an endless stream of water from a spiral shell. Then he turned into the path that led to the stables, his pace quickening as he neared home.

A team of stable hands in grey tunics waited for them in the courtyard. Nesta scanned them and picked out the tall, dark, broad-shouldered man with shoulder-length black hair  – Ferdy, Master of the Horse. Onyx made straight for him and nuzzled his ear affectionately as he took the reins. She swung off the horse and jumped to the ground.

'Your Imperial Majesty,' he bowed low.

'Ferdy,' she replied. She brushed the dust from her riding dress while she looked around, trying to work out where to go next. All around her the other riders were dismounting and giving their steeds, hounds and weapons over to the stable hands.

From the stables, a colonnade leads to the Castle's North Entrance.

But where was this colonnade? In the half-light she could make out the stable block with its rows of wooden half doors in front of her, the high, spike topped wall to her right, but to her left, between the stable courtyard and the looming bulk of the castle, there was only a tall, yew hedge.

The rest of the party stood with heads bowed, waiting to follow her.

The Empress always leads.

But I don't know where to go? she thought frantically, panic crawling up her spine. O Goddess help me! she pleaded in silence, her heart racing.

Then Sir Ferdinand straightened up from his bow, took a step to the side and extended his arm towards the yew hedge. Not knowing what else to do, Nesta started walking in the direction he was indicating.

Look confident. Hold your head high. Even if you are walking into a hedge.

And then suddenly, from inside the darkness of the hedge, a tall woman with white hair stepped out into the courtyard and Nesta saw that the colonnade's pillars were so thickly covered in ivy that they blended into the yew hedge and obscured it from view. She let out a small, imperceptible sigh of relief.

As she drew nearer, she saw that the woman wore a maroon velvet gown, very high-heeled boots and a lace shawl. Her hair was styled into one long braid which wound round her head like a coronet. Her lips were pursed, her expression as sour as if she'd just been sucking on a lemon.

Mistress of the Robes – Lettie. Takes the Empress's cloak when she comes back from hunting.

'Your Imperial Majesty,' the sour woman nodded and stepped one foot behind her in a curtsey.

'Lettie,' Nesta reached up to her neck to unbuckle her black cape. At this, Lady Lettice stepped forward and took the buckle from Nesta with an affronted sniff.

The Empress never takes off her own cape or boots, Nesta remembered too late. Oh God! This would take some getting used to!

Lettie swung the cape off Nesta's shoulders, draped it over her arm and bowed her head, leaving Nesta staring into her elaborate coiffure.

That must have taken ages. I wonder if she has someone to do it for her. Do servants have their own servants . . .? She gave her head a sharp shake. Concentrate, Nesta, she chided herself. Don't get distracted. She turned towards the shadowy colonnade, lifted her skirt above her ankles and stepped forward.

Here I go! Into the darkness. In more ways than one.

She strode down the cobbled walkway between the ivy-covered pillars. Her legs were longer than she was used to and covered the distance faster. Lady Lettice followed behind at a respectful distance. Suddenly a blur of grey fur appeared from behind a pillar and started bounding towards her.

Wolfgang - the Empress's wolfhound. She's had him since he was a puppy. He's devoted to her.

Nesta froze. If anyone was capable of exposing her as an imposter, it was Wolfgang. She held her breath. He lolloped up to her, tail wagging. Tentatively, she reached out a hand to stroke his head. He jumped up excitedly, putting his front paws on her waist and twisted his head round to lick her hand.

'Down, Wolfie! There's a good dog.' Phew! she thought. He doesn't suspect. After all, I look, sound and smell like his mistress.

She walked on, Wolfgang trotting at her side, his claws scratching on the cobbles, until the colonnade ended and a set of stone steps led up to an open doorway. Wolfgang sat down obediently at the bottom of the steps, looking up at her with soulful eyes.

No long-haired dogs are allowed inside the castle. Only short-haired dogs.

She patted him on the head and climbed the steps to the doorway, which was flanked by two iron-helmeted guards. They bowed low as she approached.

How do their helmets stay on when they bow? The sudden wild urge to reach out a hand and knock them off arose within her. She suppressed it immediately as she passed through the doorway into the most gigantic room she'd ever seen. Her jaw dropped. She couldn't help but stop and stare up at the vaulted ceiling so far above her, held up by intricately engraved pillars that reached higher than even the tallest trees in the forest.

The walls were hung with tapestries depicting Skaliff's battle victories and portraits of her former kings and queens. On the opposite wall in an ornate frame, a fat severe-looking woman wearing a heavily embroidered dress and white fur cape sat on a golden throne, orb and sceptre in hand. On her brow was the same diamond tiara that was currently digging into Nesta's skull. She recognised her from an illustrated history book she had read in the library as Queen Celestria, Sapphira's paternal grandmother.

To her left, most of the wall was taken up with the largest portrait in the room. A long-nosed man with iron grey hair and a long moustache in a gold and ruby encrusted crown and polished armour sat brandishing a bloody sword on a sleek black stallion. Nesta's insides turned to water as she saw that beneath the stallion's hooves lay the broken and bleeding body of a grotesquely ugly woman in a twilight blue cloak – King Dagobert who crushed the Wise Women.

She turned her eyes away with a shiver.

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